my eyes started to cross and my vision blurred. By the time it was over and my sight had returned the entire room was full of dead Brazilian tranny whores and had that burnt plastic smell of someone smoking crack out of a broken light bulb and also I was crying. That was the day I decided to step down as the commissioner of the MTA.

Lots of people get on the train and once they sit I begin playing a game of ‘let’s see who’s going to shoot up the train today’. Obvious first contestant: smarmy Arab guy with a beard, dyed red and hanging down to his chest, pale skin, probably from one of the Stan-countries. He looks like a bad guy extra straight out of True Lies and I peak at his torso to see any signs of a suicide vest but feel mildly disappointed when I don’t. His pants are so short that i can see he doesn’t have a gun on his ankle. Most likely he represents no danger to me but I move to sit behind him anyway, just in case. It’s not that I care if he kills me, on the contrary, i hope he does, it’s just that i don’t want to be the first one to die because the first person to die in a mass shooting never sees it coming and when the motherfuckers finally do come for me I want to look them right in the eyes when they do me. I probably got too high this morning. My eyes feel watery. I’m forgetting to blink. My irregular heartbeat acts up. I snap out of it and take out my phone, log the 15 calories worth of unsweetened almond milk I had in my coffee this morning into my calorie counting app, this despite emotionally eating over 4000 calories yesterday. I wanna be sexually dominated by every woman over 40 on this train, even the ones I don’t find sexually attractive. Maybe even especially them. Last night I fucked a Chinese whore at the rub and tug parlor on 18th avenue near the ghetto Chinese Buffet. The no frills condoms at the spa were cheap, unlubed jobs that were a little too small on me, which made my dick chafe and tugged on me painfully as I fucked Neiku, a flabby fifty something gook with yellow teeth. Despite the pain it still only took me 15 minutes to cum, even though I jerked off 17 times throughout the course of the day. I later found out via Google translate that Neiku meant ‘panty’ in mandarin, which was ironic because she didn’t wear any.

“there was that one ko-rean guy who like made this weird leakin radiator noise when he fucked me. you know, like when your radiator comes on, it makes that hissin noise?… uh huh… it would start from his nose and get higher and higher until he finished comin… nah, it would stop suddenly. hold on hun.”
she puts down the phone, finishes putting the diaper on the baby then flings him into his crib, banking him off the wall head first.
she scoops up her phone and a family size bag of cool ranch doritos in one swoop.
“…that lil gook fucker dug his fingers into muh back so hard i was bruised for like a month… i mean it was probably smaller than average but it fit him, he was a little dude, it looked normal on him, it would of been even weirder if his dick were bigger…ugh, i do not need to be seeing that. hold on shoog, muh pads full” she reaches up her denim cut off skirt and pulls down her stained panties, removing a maxi pad drenched in dark red, almost brown dried blood. she throws the pad and banks it off the wall right into baby’s crib. he grabs it and starts chewing on it.
“…mmmhmm, girl, didnt i tell you last week at church that he got a fat ass dick?”
she lights a pall mall 100 with a match, tosses the match into the baby crib. baby catches fire.
“…that dont mean he aint a good hunter, tho. i been with a few one armed men who could still handle a bow.” cigarette in mouth, she grabs a fire extinguisher and puts out the baby.
“alright hun, i’ll call ya later.” she hangs up her phone, takes a look at the baby and says, “bobby ray junior, look at this mess you done made!”

the vagina is pulsating and alive as she repeatedly crashes down onto my face, it opens up, smiles then grins its menacing teeth as it drools all over me, taunts me then says in a satanic voice, “you worthless shit, i’m going to eat your dick”
“Good. I want you to.” Its hairs grow, transform into vines that wrap themselves around my neck and they feel like icy fingers, i start to choke, feels good, i want to die, people are watching, laughing, crying, various fluids fly through the air as her fat ass settles down on to my face, crushes the life from me, i hard french kiss her pussy, stick my tongue deep in it, taste the sickly sweet juice inside, i bite her clit very hard and she squeezes my balls in return which makes me bite her harder which makes her squeeze more, an endless pain/pleasure cycle and everything goes black as i lose my vision but then the blackness turns into spirals of neon color, flowers blossom then die, a baby cries, her pussy bites me back and a sitcom laugh track plays loudly as i insert my entire head into her.

the good news is my testicular cancer has gone into remission. the bad news is I’m going to murder my wife and stepson in their sleep tonight. I’ll do it after watching Anderson Cooper on CNN. i’ll masturbate to him interviewing Bernie Sanders and right when Bernie says, “taxation is the price you pay for living in a civilization” is when i’ll cum. Then once I’ve expelled the toxic masculinity out of me, i’ll murder my adopted stepson little Deandre Marquis, via strangulation, while wearing vegan leather gloves so as to A. not leave any prints on him and B. not harm any animals. I don’t want Deandre Marquis to scream and wake up his mother Imani so I’ll punch him in the face first, making sure to knock him out, before i strangle the life from his poor marginalized body. Before i move on to Imani i’ll pack a quick Bathing Ape duffel bag with just the essentials: a dozen american apparel vegan organic v necks made from sustainably farmed virgin hand spun cotton, an autographed copy of George Clooneys revised and updated biography: George Clooney: The Last Great Movie Star, my 16 inch nitrile powder free extra girthy black dildo, plenty of sea salt sprinkled soy protein crisps, six pairs of APC raw denim jeans that i haven’t been able to break in yet, my $650 limited edition onitsuka tigers designed by Jean Paul Gaultier and the estrogen pills I have to take as part of my state mandated emasculation. Once I’ve packed all that i’ll murder Imani, also via strangulation, while wearing the same vegan leather gloves. I’ll make sure her clothes stay on so as to not accidentally rape her while i kill her. Then i’ll take out the recyclables and start charging the electric car for the long drive down to the St. Obama Mexico State Gender Reassignment and Abortion Center of the People’s Republic of America where i’ll begin my new life as the woman i could never be while still pretending to function in this heteronormative family unit.